Meren halts at the narrow path and points up into the white glare. The trail clings to the rock face, one slip from the drop. Behind them, the iron grate sits dark in the mountain wall, and the wind keeps dragging at cloaks and hems.
Meren
We do not have long. If the guards saw the tunnel, they will send riders to the ridge.
The Inquisitor tightens both hands around the ledger. He keeps his back to the cliff and his eyes on the horizon, as if he expects the mountain itself to betray them.
The Inquisitor
Then we climb. The ledger stays with us until someone can read every seal it names.
Meren steps close and lowers their voice, pointing toward a black notch farther up the ridge. A thin line of smoke curls there, faint but real, like a watchpost or a hidden camp.
Meren
That smoke is not ours. If the Magistrate has watchers ahead, this path becomes the shortest road to the truth, or the trap that buries it.
The Inquisitor glances to Enanita, then up the path. He loosens his grip just enough to show the ledger, the evidence they have risked everything to carry. The choice is clear now, press on into the spires and expose the Magistrate, or lose the trail here.
✓ Quest Accepted
Secure the ledger
✓ Quest Accepted
Identify the watcher
“Can I spot the watcher from this vantage point?”
YES (Likely, rolled 40)
Enanita scans the jagged ridgeline above the mountain pass, her eyes narrowing against the biting wind. A flicker of movement catches her attention near a cluster of wind-sculpted pines.
Enanita
There, a silhouette stands perfectly still against the grey stone, watching the path we just abandoned.
The Inquisitor
Do you see them, Enanita. Is it one of the Magistrate's hounds, or someone else entirely.
“Is the watcher one of the Magistrate's hounds?”
NO (Likely, rolled 80)
The silhouette shifts, revealing the distinct, flowing robes of a mountain hermit rather than the rigid armor of the Magistrate's guard. It is not one of the hounds.
“I call out to the hermit”
SUCCESS (Great Persuasion, rolled +2)
Enanita cups her hands and calls up to the ridge. Her voice carries cleanly across the snow.
Hermit
I hear you, child of the low paths. Few speak politely to strangers on this mountain.
The hermit turns from the sky and starts down with careful, deliberate steps, robe hems snagging on ice.
Hermit
You are not Magistrate's men. That much the mountain grants me at a glance.
Meren
Then you know what passes for law below. We need only a little truth.
Hermit
Truth is a costly thing here. But I have spent colder nights on this ridge than you have.
The hermit stops a few paces away and lowers a gloved hand, palm open, as if asking whether Enanita means conversation or barter.
Quest Complete
Identify the watcher